Confessions
by moondocc
Summary: 29. Slightly overweight. Fervent passion for trashy romance novels. SINGLE. Her life obsession: eating. Her dream: to win that blasted Pie Eating Contest, which she hasn't won since age 17. And damn, why won't the boss's son stop hitting on her? [SS]
1. 01 & Confessions

**Confessions**

A fiction by moondocc

Rated T/Genre Humor/Romance

**Disclaimer: **CCS belongs to Clamp, blah blah blah. I own the plot, and though it may seem like a Bridget Jones's plot, but I can assure you it's not. At least not entirely, anyway. It was really made after me reading a summary of My Name is Kim Sam Soon, which is a Korean drama. I have not yet had the fortune to actually see the drama, but the summary immediately caught my eye. And here it is, it is spun into a fanfiction:D

**Summary: **Twenty-nine. Slightly overweight (she says she's slightly, but then you can never really tell). _Single._ Fervent passion for trashy romance novels, though she'll never admit it to anyone, not evens her best friends. Average job as an ever-so average accountant in a mega-million company. Her life obsession: eating. Her dream: to win that blasted Pie Eating Contest, which she hasn't won since age seventeen. And damn, did that hot guy across the hall just look at her butt? Oh no! The boss's spoiled teenage (ok, he's not really a _teenager_) son is looking right at her butt!

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**Chapter 1: Confessions of a Mad Career Woman/Singleton**

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Oh no! My bra is falling off my back! What am I to do? The meeting starts in two minutes and my bra strap is hanging loose and it feels like my left boob is sagging! Oh no! The humiliation I must face! And what is Director Stevenson looking at? Are my breasts really that interesting?

Thankfully, the meeting room is completely walled with mirrors. I turn my chair over, fully expecting to see a beautiful woman imaged at the receiving end, but instead I gasp with complete horror. I could just faint! No wonder Director Stevenson was checking me out in such an inappropriate way! You could see the complete contour of my body against my bloody white shirt which _just_ turned out to be so…blasted thin!

Oh, I could faint. Maybe I should just faint. I should. I must. Oh wait. What if they look at me questionably and then take advantage of me because my left breast is completely uncovered? I wouldn't be able to wake up and slap them…I'd have to pretend that I'm dead or something. No, no, not a good idea, Sakura, you must focus.

Maybe you should ask them if you could go to the restroom to "freshen up".

"Meeting starts in thirty seconds! Get in your positions, everyone!"

Okay… the restroom idea is definitely out of the question. It was then when I tried desperately to come up with an escape route that the door clicks open and everyone turns their heads. Perfect! Just the chance for me to fix my bloody bra strap. I click the two metals together and smile satisfactorily at myself before I felt a killing air around me. I look up, and find the entire room staring at my left boob.

"Yes?" I try to sound as calm as possible. I didn't want them to hear the nervous beating of my heart. I swear, they could _smell_ fear.

Unfortunately, nobody answered. I nod at them weirdly and then looked down at my agenda. I even managed to flip a page before I hear someone clear his throat. Annoyed, I ruffle my hair with an indifferent expression and sounded, "Yes?" through gritted teeth.

"Behind you, ma'am," some tiny voice hinted. I raise my eyebrows and turn around before shrieking loudly. Mind you, I almost fell off my chair. In front of me, dressed in a tight (and I daresay, expensive but nonetheless dashing, suit) stands my boss's son who looked like he had just walked off a photo shoot. He has handsome features which I will describe some other time…that spoiled brat. He probably goes to the spa more often than I do (darling, will you please look at his perfect skin!).

"What's your name?" He inquired.

Shit! He's playing the name game. I'm so in trouble. Hmm…I _could_ mutter someone else's name, but I doubt that's very possible in front of every board member present.

"Kinomoto Sakura, sir," I stand up and bow. My head almost touched the ground when I bowed. I really, really, _really_ did not want to get into trouble during my first month as a Level I accountant in this blasted mega-million company.

Speaking of this mega-million company…what is it that they produce that's so much profit that ends with me going home every evening with my fingers throbbing from typing?

"Your breasts are very, very disturbing to me. Would you mind going to the restroom to freshen up?" Ok, really not the time to think about what this company was producing. Not the time, Sakura. On the other hand, I want to slap this guy. How dare he talk to me like I'm some hooker?

"No, not at all, Mr. Li," I bow again and dart for the door. The board members all eyed me very weirdly. Truth to be told, I wasn't really supposed to be attending the meeting. I was their papers-and-pencils girl. The one that hands them out crap from the paper box since the secretary had just run off with the mailman (they are looking for replacements, so I'm naturally the first substitute, having such inferior job as I do). I really didn't deserve a seat in that prestigious office…which is probably why I shouldn't have drawn so much attention to myself.

I quickly run to the restroom just around the corner and locked myself in one of the stalls. I sit on the toilet, hands supporting my chin and let out a big breath. This was really not a good day, and it is only 10:00am! How the hell am I going to come out alive from Edgar & Co.? I unlock the door of the stall and stare at my chest in the mirror. I fixed my bra pretty well. Nothing seems to be the problem. What the hell was wrong with the boss's son? Jesus. If I wanted a party, I would have asked God. Now I have his stupid eyes on my back.

Geez.

**Mr. Li's point of view. **

When I walked into that room, the first thing I saw when I opened the door was a girl who was touching herself in a very weird way. She caught my attention immediately, and as I walked closer to her, it looked as if she was…rubbing her left breast. It all looked rather jovial to me, because in a minute she noticed everyone's gaze on her and just choked out an indifferent "Yes?" and guess what?... began flipping the pages of the agenda as if nothing had happened.

I was absolutely, fantastically so amused that I stood behind her for the better part of the minute looking at the back of her slightly fat red head and smirking to myself endlessly about just how dumb this girl could be. Believe me, for the better part of the minute, I wondered to myself how my father, one of the main associates of Edgar & Co., also known as the boss (well, the boss was Frank Edgar himself, but he's never there, so logically my dad was the boss, therefore I'm the boss's son, but no one knows about that anyway), had hired a girl with the intelligence of a crab sitting in his chair, in his board room, rubbing herself in a most inappropriate and may I add, disturbing, way then pretending that nothing was wrong.

I cleared my throat. The Crab did not notice that it came from behind her, and therefore Timid Co-Worker had to whisper. As she turned around, the most unpleasant sound reached my ears and I found myself wanting to crawl under the carpet and scream as loud as I can so to prevent me from within earshot to her shriek. But then if I had actually crawled under the carpet I would have missed her almost falling off her chair which was the most hilarious thing indeed. She gave me the sense of notion that she knew who I was. Perfect. I gave my timing a perfect spin and remarked, "What's your name?"

She must have realized that she was in trouble because it took her several seconds before shooting up her eyes and muttering her name in dark despair. "Kinomoto Sakura, sir," she answered before bowing again. Her cheeks brushed against my knee when she rose, but she didn't notice. It was a good thing that she didn't notice because like all girls, she probably would have made a big fuss about it.

I wonder if the next sentence would leave my lips, but it escaped like a runaway fugitive before I could chain it to my teeth. "Your breasts are very, very disturbing to me. Would you mind going to the restroom to freshen up?" It must have been very insulting to her because her face blanched for a moment as she bowed and left the door muttering unintelligible words to herself. Probably about me, anyway. My fault for showing so little disrespect for her.

Oh. Well.

**End Mr. Li's point of view.**

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**Sakura's point of view.**

Ooo. I just don't know how to face that bloody man again! My bra was perfectly adjusted and he had the nerve to send me to the restroom just because he is the boss's son! He looks too young to be in this company anyway. He should plaster his face to one of those teen magazines that have young girls idolize young boys. I bet he even qualifies for that. What was his name again? His name isn't very romantic-sounding. If they ever plaster his stupid face to a teen beat magazine they should change his name to Damon Williams. Now doesn't that sound like a more romantic name? He is the hero of the romance novel that I am reading now, _God of the Beautiful_. In the book he—

Alright. I really shouldn't be getting distracted. I should at least _look _professional when I enter the room. Oh, they'll ignore me anyway. I'm just a stupid papers-and-pencil girl. I smile to myself contently and tugged my shirt. My hand shifts the doorknob and closes the door softly behind me. I look up.

Fuck!

Every pair of eyes is directing immediately at me and my left boob! Have they lost their bonkers? I already _went_ to the restroom as _ordered_ because my chest was disturbing the freaking boss's son and now they still think I'm a complete idiot that I would leave my bra unhooked and waltz in with a happy face?

I laugh nervously. The boss's son was looking at me like I was some sort of alien with that inquiring glare of his. "I'm back!" I announce with a happy face (much to my annoyance). I manage to sit down at the corner of the boardroom and duck my head down so no one will be able to see my (presumably red) face. Mr. Li turns his head back again and directs his attention at the current speaker, Director Stevenson, who finally resumed his speech with a straight, and mind, _not_ perverted, face.

As the meeting ended, I stand up from my chair and waited until everyone else had left the boardroom. As a Level I accountant I am in no way superior to any of the board members, senior or not, and am always considered last in matters of comfort. Of course, our company does respect the elders, so naturally Teen Beat was the last to leave before me. He gave me a weird look before he stepped out of the door and went on his business. I scoff after him, but just when he turned around I bite my tongue and pretend to be thinking about something else. To say in the least, I am quite embarrassed of the events since this morning, and am not in the mood to receive weird looks from said bastard.

I walk back to my office, or should I say, tiny space shared with four people guarded by three feet "walls". I load down my papers and flip open the manila folder and type in the figures. I'm not really in the mood for huge numbers to be typed as an accountant, so I ended up doodling my name on a blank sheet of paper.

Sakura Kinomoto

&

Damon Williams

"Ahhh." I sigh to myself, content. Lovely, lovely Damon Williams. He is absolutely Sex God. Mind you, the front cover does this character no justice at all. None whatsoever.

I wonder. Is anybody looking my way? I look around subtly at my surroundings and snicker. Then, my ingenious and brilliant mind propelled me to take out _God of the Beautiful_ and flip to page 327. Damon Williams is just about to propose to Lila Delores, whose father is Spanish and whose mother is French. Oh, I am so jealous of her! I wish I had a figure like hers, but being overweight is not really an option to have a killer demonic body possessed by Lila Delores. Stupid witch.

At five p.m., I take my purse and get ready (gleefully) to leave the blasted place. Just when I step out of my chair and look out, I find a pair of possibly brown eyes quickly shifting its gaze away from me. I immediately turn around to myself and let out an "Omigawd!" in my awful voice and realized what the man was looking at.

He was looking at my butt! How could the bastard? Well, he is up for a consultation from me! I mean, why would he look at my butt? It's not much of a sight to behold except for the excessive cellulite and fat wobbling here and there.

I clear my throat and walk over the direction of whoever it is that looked at my butt. Why do I feel like I'm on display all the time today? Like, I constantly feel a pair of eyes watching my every move, checking my every motive from behind my back—checking me out, no less.

The man had his back turned from me, probably from embarrassment. He stands stranded in a glassed office (with absolutely no privacy, really, I wonder why anyone would want to be in a glass office with everyone looking down one's shoulders) with his hands tied at his back. My anger had gotten the best of me when I push that door and open my mouth.

Which I probably shouldn't have, because the first word that came out of it was "Bastard!"

The man immediately turns around from such a rude comment and I immediately lost the balance in my legs. Oh dear god. The very face plastered on teen beat magazine had just walked off the goddamn cover and landed right in front of me.

"Excuse me?" he asks, half-amused, half-delirious.

"Nothing." I mutter quickly. "I…just came here…to tell you urm…" I stutter, what am I to say now? I'm such an idiot. Oh why oh why did I torture myself by coming in and trying to scold a man who's imprisoned in a glassed office? I'm so stupid. How could I bare to have the IQ of a crab and walk into _any_ glassed office?

"…That…Director Foreman will be needing that report tomorrow," I lied. I honestly have no fucking idea what I'm talking about.

"Sorry?" apparently the pompous teenager didn't catch a thing I said. "Report, what report?" or maybe he _did_ hear, but was just confused about it.

"Never mind, haha, good bye!" I laugh nervously and rush out of the glassed office.

Did he or did he not just check me out a moment ago? The boss's son just looked at my butt? Impossible… Oh man…I still have to feed Kero, my stupid, spoiled cat!

**moondocc: **Well, first chapter finished! I know it's got sort of a British sense of humor, but I can't possibly help it. I can't get the Britain out of my head! Anyway, I hope you guys liked this chapter, and we'll see how this project turns out. If it is well received, I'll continue. If not, we'll see.

Oh yes, about Sakura's weight situation. She's not like… 300 lbs. She's just a bit overweight.

**About W I S H:** I royally fcked up on that story. I'm taking it off for some major revisions, which I hope will make it better, because right now it is in a major load of dirt.

**Please review!**


	2. 02 & Rich People Always Hang Together

**Confessions **

A fiction by moondocc

Rated T/Genre Humor/Romance

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**Chapter 02- Rich People Always Hang Together  
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I am too mad to be going home. Too, too mad. After getting sexually assaulted by Mr. Teen-beat and having to pretend that it never happened I simply do not have the face to show up in my apartment and look at my spoiled cat. I know, I know, it's a bloody cat! Who cares? But Kero, that little fat thirty-pound animal who cannot walk straight because of too much fat preventing mobility, makes me feel guilty with those little tiny eyes that stick out from nowhere.

Stupid cat! I should have gotten a dog.

What to do, what to do? I contemplate the possibilities in my mind as I start the engine of my car. It's a very, very old car—an '86 Beetle that looks like it's been beat up by one of those monster trucks on TV. Poor, poor car. It can't be blamed anyway, for I am a horrible driver. Its beat-up appearance was all propelled by me and my victims, but mainly me, because I refuse to fix it.

Come on! The car is twenty years old! It will be going out of fashion in another…ten, twenty years! What's the use of fixing it? Well, I have to admit it looks clean and everything, because to me, appearance is everything (ignore the occasional bumps and dents here and there).

I exit out of the company parking lot and began to roam Thrushcross Avenue while still sorting out what I needed to do for the week. I've already done the laundry (I had to, the clothes were starting to smell bad), the groceries (I swallow down a lot of food, mind you), and picked up the movie of the week (Pride and Prejudice, because I love the story so—Elizabeth Bennett is one of the most frightful, yet stunning characters in the history of book-writing, which probably dates back all the way to Mesopotamia, with Epic of Gilgamesh—why am I giving you a history lesson?), so naturally, there is nothing else left to do.

Just then, as if on cue, my cell phone began to ring. My ring tone is "Are you gonna be my girl?" which, as most of you know (and if you don't, I admire you very much), gets very annoying after a while.

"Sakura?"

I had just the chance to press the talk button and lay my eyes on the road again. I am steering with one hand. Oh the dread of me getting into another accident is starting to scare me. "Tomoyo?"

Tomoyo is my best friend and my best consult at times like this. She's got the body of a professional .007 assassin, the perfect curves here and there and the most beautiful amethyst eyes and raven hair. No, no, I'm not hitting on my best friend. It's just that, after being her friend since we were toddlers, I'm getting pretty good at memorizing the lines used to describe her spoken by all the guys that have ever dated her. Pretty, pretty good.

"Sakura! Are you going to the company dinner next week?" She asks urgently. I wonder what's wrong. Again I try to focus on the road, but with Kanye West in the background slurring dirty words I can't help but not pay attention to the road (Do record companies do this on purpose? Do they purposely try to kill off fans who listen to their signed singers by getting them into car accidents?).

"Yes, yes I am." I tell her immediately. Daidouji Tomoyo works in the marketing department as a secretary to the hottest bachelor of the company—Hiiragizawa Eriol. But since they're both dating different people, I guess the chance of them getting together (liked the clichéd boss-and-secretary-relationship) is out of the question. They would look cute together though. If I had the body of Tomoyo and the mind of a seductress/prostitute I'd totally go for Hiiragizawa. But since I have the body of a large, furry rat and the mind of a kid with Down Syndrome, I'm opting for the other options out there.

"Have you gotten your dress yet?" She asks next.

I step on the breaks in the middle of the Thrushcross Avenue and scream "SHIT!" Thankfully there are no other cars behind me or in front of me, or else I would have had severe consequences on account of my random impulse.

"I take that as a 'no'?" I felt Tomoyo sweat-drop on the other end. "Want to go shopping together?"

I press gas again and drive on smoothly. "Pick you up right now?" I offer. Tomoyo murmured a "yes" and hung up. I sigh. Geez, how could I have forgotten? The company dinner is next week and all of the business departments must attend it. It's an either-you-attend-or-we'll-fire-your-sorry-ass kind of situation. Ten minutes later, I stop outside of Tomoyo's apartment building and she stepped inside.

"Let's say…Princess Mall?"

I nod my head in agreement. It was only called Princess Mall because the late princess Yumiko Hashana bought it as her own private sanctuary. On days when it closes for the public is when her highness goes crazy and shopping-spree-y. When we arrived there twenty minutes later, that was exactly the scenario that I had just described.

I curse in front of the curb. Tomoyo joins me in my cries of desperation and anger, but she does not curse. Instead, she walks up to the doorman and bats her eyelashes. "May we go in?"

The doorman shook his head. Tomoyo pouts and converses with him for ten more minutes before she gestured me to come with her. In my glee I jogged up next to her, receiving a very weird glare from said doorman.

"What did you say to him?" I ask her.

"Oh, I flattered him a bit and offered to give him my phone number if he lets me in," she smiled discreetly. I nod in understanding. Nobody could resist _not_ having the phone number of one of those Lila Delores's.

"Where shall we go for a dress, Sakura?" She askes me kindly. Well, my favorite stores are Express and bebe, not that either one has anything that actually…fits me. Last resort? Versace. Not that Versace sells nice, black dresses (black makes me look skinnier, damn it) that come in size L, but they usually have gorgeous gowns that cost a fortune (it's not like I have a family to feed, although Kero does fill for the appetite of three grown adults), but hey, this is my day to spoil myself, especially after encountering that stupid…Mr. Li and his sexual assaults towards yours truly's butt.

Tomoyo and I walk into Versace feeling rich and glamorous. She takes a look at a purple dress with black flower patterns while I walk around the store, eyeing the dresses on display most appreciably. I look at the tag of a random dress on the shelf. Seven hundred dollars. Interesting.

The saleslady stopped in front of me and held her head back in a rude manner, "Are _you_ looking for a dress here?" she scoffs.

"Yes," I answer plainly, "I have a company dinner to attend next week, and I would really like a black dress for the occasion."

"Are you important in anyway?" She asks boldly.

I draw back. "Is that really any of your business? I mean, do you keep a record book of who's important and who isn't?"

The saleslady seemed surprised by my answer. She walked over to one of the racks and picked out a dress and held it up for me to see. To say in the least it was hideous. The monotony of black matched with silky silver lining was a complete disaster. And the size was obviously one size too large. It was as if the saleslady was mocking my weight. To which, for clarification, I am _not_ that overweight. Just a little bit. A little bit.

Thirty pounds is nothing, right?

Tomoyo walked over to me and wrapped the purple dress around her body. "What do you think?"

"It looks really nice," I smile. It was the truth. Tomoyo looks good in anything and everything. "Should I buy it? She bites her lip and pins her eyes together. "How much is it?" I ask.

"It's four hundred dollars. Not that bad for Versace." She looks at the dress again before walking up to the mirror and twirling it around.

"Go try it on," I tell her kindly as she smiled and stepped into the changing room. I sigh, and starts walking around aimlessly again, looking at the various dresses in this expensive, rip-off store.

Just when I reach for the black dress with crimson petals on it someone's voice cut through. Startled, the dress falls to the floor, allowing the saleslady to scoff at me again.

The high voice ran along something like this: "What are you doing here?"

Picking up the dress I turn around and almost immediately gasp. Standing before my eyes is the most beautiful girl I have ever seen. She has straight black hair which she fashioned into a ponytail, and big, chocolate brown eyes, skin as flawless as the surface of my iPod (ok, bad comparison), and is dressed in a sporty fashion, with a jacket from Hollister and bebe sweatpants.

But her voice is unbelievably annoying.

"Excuse me, but who are you?"

She seems to scoff at my stupidity. Just then two men walked into the store, one shouting, "Yumiko, let's go somewhere else," but froze when he saw me, and repeated the same dumb question the gorgeous girl standing before me had uttered, "what are _you_ doing here?"

"I could ask you the same question," I say intelligently.

Before me, Mr. Teen-beat/Boss's son stands fully erect, dressed in an A/X t-shirt and bleached jeans. Next to him, another man more well-dressed, in a Burberry suit and black tie, stands Hiiragizawa Eriol, Tomoyo's boss.

"Apparently, Syaoran, she has no idea who I am," the girl called "Yumiko" say haughtily to said man next to her. Oh, so _that _is his name! Yep, not as romantic as Damon Williams. I guess they must change his name when they make him into a celebrity.

Syaoran laughed heartily at this while Hiiragizawa elbowed him. He let out a soft groan as Hiiragizawa smiled and stretched out his hand. "Hi, Hiiragizawa Eriol. You're Kinomoto Sakura, am I correct?"

I almost tumble over. How could someone as handsome and as dashing as Eriol Hiiragizawa possibly know someone like me, a Level I accountant in a mega-billion company? Yumiko turned over to him with a disgusting expression of her face, "You _know_ her?"

Eriol ignored her and continued to smile at me. "Don't worry, Miss Kinomoto. I know the names of every single one of our business department employees. Your resumes all pass through me when you first apply, as well as your pictures!" he explained. I sigh out of comfort.

"Sakura, what do you think?" All eyes shift to the girl standing in the center of the almost-empty store as Tomoyo clasped her hand over her mouth (in a very lady-like way). She blushed at the sight of the four of us looking up and down at her like that. I'd say that the men of this situation were very, very satisfied with her looks while the women were split in half. Yumiko bore a jealous expression on her face, presumably from seeing her friends Eriol and Syaoran so taken in awe by another beauty. I was very, very happy that she decided to invade upon us at this precise moment, because this Yumiko character was disturbing me greatly.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Tomoyo apologized quickly and rushed back into the dressing room again. She really didn't need to do that, for I think Syaoran and Eriol (Syaoran, especially) were very disappointed that she had left so early. Yumiko, for one, was both glad and angry.

"Who is that girl?" She inquired audaciously.

"My friend, Daidouji Tomoyo," I offer to answer. Yumiko snorted at me arrogantly. "I didn't know commoners could afford this store." Eriol looked displeased at her comment and mouthed a quick "sorry". Mr. Li couldn't look less interested.

"Let's go, Syaoran, Eriol," Yumiko turned to her friends, "I don't want to be stuck in a place where _commoners_ shop. I didn't even know they were allowed in on my special day."

"Yes, I didn't think they were allowed, either," I heard Syaoran chime in with an air of superiority. Eriol turned around silently and waved me goodbye. I watch them leave, feeling completely humiliated.

The saleslady walked up to me, her face distorted in a rather ugly expression. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave, miss. You have just chased away one of our biggest shoppers. I'll let your friend buy her dress, but after that, we hope we will never see you or your friend again."

I stare at the saleslady as if she was crazy. "What, that teenager?"

"That _teenager_, which she's not, is Yumiko Hashana, the _princess_ of Japan, the _owner_ of this mall. Now please, leave." The saleslady waved to me. Tomoyo had just finished purchasing her dress, and walked up to me and asked, "What was that all about?"

"Rich people always hang together," was my reply.

I think I lost my appetite in shopping today. Having been insulted like that. Apparently, four hours and thirty-six minutes later, going through all the stores at Princess Mall and ending up with blisters on my feet, I still have no dress. I did end up with a few sports outfits though, all from bebe sports and Hollister of course.

And I purchasing sports outfits do _not_ have anything to do with Princess Yumiko Hashana.

Just want to clarify.

**Third person point of view.**

The doorman gleefully dials the number written on a piece of paper by the gorgeous girl who had left it four hours ago. He presses the numbers one by one, each with growing anticipation. He pressed his ear to his cell phone as it rang. It ran exactly three times.

"Hello, you have reached the Rejection Hotline. If you have been given this number, it means the person who gave you this number does not wish to have any contact with you, and that means that you are a loser, the worst kind of loser in the world, and in the future, please do not ask for numbers again. Goodbye, you worthless idiot."

Then, the automated answer machine hung up on him. The doorman stared at his cell phone for a few seconds before throwing it on the ground and shouting, "Hot damn."

**moondocc: ** How did you guys like this chapter :D This is a very, very lovely story to write! It's so happy! Sakura is a lot like me, and all the stores described here are my favorite stores (esp. Hollister!) well, except for Versace (which I'm too cheap to afford, and as Sakura said, a complete 'rip-off').

Anyway, the relationship between Eriol-Syaoran-Yumiko will be described in the next chapter or so (maybe, if I ever get to the dinner). Oh, and there's no ExT in this story, or I don't know… I'm very confident that there won't be ExT in this story since I'm just borrowing Eriol for a far greater purpose. As you guys can see, you probably know what that purpose is ;P

**Please review!** Because if you actually get through this chapter (and esp. if you're planning to add it to your alerts/favorites/whatever) then I would very much like to hear what you think. Or else I won't update as much. Thank you.

Also, i changed the title of the story to **Confessions** which sounds so much more sophisticated 8-)


	3. 03 & Loser No More?

**Confessions **

A fiction by moondocc

Rated T/Genre Humor/Romance

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**Chapter 03-Loser No More??  
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I come home and lay down on my bed before I get up again and walk to the phone. I pressed a button.

"You have: 0 messages."

Oh, my dear, dear sad life. Makes me want to take out a knife and cut myself. But I hate pain. And I hate inflicting pain upon my skin (because that is very stupid-why would you want to hurt yourself for no apparent reason except my-life-sucks-and-therefore-killing-myself-is-the-answer?)

Kero purrs as I run my hand through his yellow-orange fur. I have just fed him two cans of tuna, a bowl of Cat Chow, a bowl of milk, and some of my leftovers-his favorite is apple sausages. That fat cat. I really shouldn't spoil him so. If he were a human, he'd be a male version of me. Fat, miserable, ugly.

In many ways, pets reflect their owners, don't they?

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Shit shit shit! I cannot be late to work _again_! I am going to get my ass fired if I'm late for the fourth time this week! How am I to survive?! Oh it's all Kero's fault. He wouldn't let go of my leg until he's had his fill of Cat Chow with Raisins. I think I need to force my cat to go on a diet. Or else he'll die of a cardiac arrest due to high cholesterol and grease blocking his artery.

Now is really not the time to think about your stinkin' cat, Sakura. I remind myself why I am here in my boring job (which is to make money for my future family so that my kids can go to a good college, blah blah blah…which really translates into: FUN SHOPPING SPREE TIME!) and run up the stairs like a maniac. I really hope my skirt doesn't rip half-way, like it has last time I ran like this.

After conquering the stairs (I have to wait at least ten minutes for the damn elevator to come down-yes, all six of them), well I'm working on the sixth floor, no biggie-I run to my desk, set my purse down, and inhaled deeply.

"Ok, time to ask Laura for my assignment!" I chirp happily and walk awkwardly towards Laura Austin, my director.

"Good morning, Laura!" I say cheerfully.

Laura turns her head from her computer screen and I almost let out a shriek. "Laura?" I ask.

Laura looked like the reddleman. Her eyes were completely red, her face looked like a blasted tomato, and her lips were so bruised that they were protruding outwards like she's trying to catch a baseball with her bottom lip.

"Yes?" She says grumpily. "Oh," she said with sudden realization, "here is your assignment for today. Just type these numbers in, ok?"

I nod. "Laura, are you ok?" I ask in concern.

"No," she murmurs tragically like a sad kitten that had just lost his mother. She began to sob slowly, cupping her face in her hands. "My husband is cheating on me…" she whispers while she looked at me with heartbreaking eyes.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Laura!" I say sincerely. "Are you all right? Do you want to talk about it?"

Laura's eyes squeezed into a line and begin a full throttle, on the tear-duct part. "Her name is Kristin, and they have been dating for a year now."

It's sad how clichés turn into real life tragic stories. I take the seat next to her and support my chin with my hands. Laura was not exactly my good friend, but she has been there for me, and is about the nicest girl I have ever met. She's a little bit over thirty-five, with no children, but supposedly a lovely husband who sends her flowers on every single important holiday. She used to incite jealousy from us singletons who sigh dreamily about our Prince Charmings, who never bothered to send flowers at all.

Apparently her Prince Charming had transformed into Unfaithful-Husband-Who-Probably-Sends-Flowers-To-Lots-More-People-As-It-Turns-Out.

"And the sad thing is, he wants to divorce _me_-when _I'm _the one who should be breaking it off with him!" Laura spat hatefully. I look at her with sympathetic eyes and rub her arm with my hands. It's the least I could do, considering-

"What are you two doing here?" I feel a shadow over my body. Laura whirls around and quickly wipes her tears.

"Aren't you supposed to be doing work?" The shadow's beholder said abrasively. I stand up now, facing the boss's son six feet three with my five feet and six inches.

"Can't you see she's sad?" I demand.

"Sad?" Syaoran looked at Laura then back at me, "Her? No, she's not. And you know what she looks like? Like a woman who's ready to work." He gives me a harsh stare, then checks his watch.

I can't say that I'm very pleased about his speech.

"And you know what you should do?" He narrows his eyes, "Act like you have a job." With that, he leaves the two of us alone and walks back into his glassed office. My mouth opens involuntarily at the horrible character of Syaoran Li. Part of me wants to follow him back there and give him a nice slap on the cheek, and part of me wants to sit down and wish that I had called in sick.

"It's ok, Sakura, I'm sorry for getting you into trouble," Laura says apologetically, "Mr. Li is very strict about the work place, and this really shouldn't be the area to talk about our personal lives."

I smile and nod. "All right, then, Laura, I'll meet up with you later," I say confidently. Laura braves a smile back, and gestures for me to get back to my computer and my stupid numbers.

After three hours of droning, I set out to the Marketing Department to meet Tomoyo for lunch. We're going to a Chinese restaurant just across from the building and dedicate a _whole_ hour to eating.

I cross many aisles and meeting rooms and stopped in front of Hiiragizawa Eriol's. Tomoyo told me to wait at the door. I check my watch. It's 12:04pm, and she still hasn't come out yet. She told me that she might be a little bit late, because Eriol always kept her hands busy.

I lean myself against the door and take out my iPod. I scroll the menu and decide on Hoobastank's "The Reason". As the song starts playing, I began to sing along with it, only check to see that nobody is there, of course.

I nod my head with the beat of the song. I have to admit that I'm not a great singer, which is why I don't sing in public places-I don't want to humiliate myself in front of anybody. But now I am on the top of my lungs, shouting crazy out-of-tune melodies to this song. "That I just want you to know, I've found a reason for me, to change who I used to be, a reason to start over new, and the reason is-"

Just this moment, like fate, the door opened, and as I was leaning against the door, I fell directly back. Shit! It all happened so quick that I was unable to comprehend it before it happened as I was caught by a pair of strong arms and I only finished the chorus, "…you."

Oh! This is just like those cheesy romantic comedies where the girl falls backward and gets caught by the guy! Except it's happening to me (in an awkward way that the person who is holding me is not in love with me, and nor I him, although I find him extremely attractive). Ah! I am an addict to those cheesy romantic comedies! Absolute fanatic! And I've often dreamed of someone catching-

"Can you get up? My arm is kind of hurting…" A pair of spectacles looks down at me. His eyes were the deepest sapphire, an alluringly color that rendered my brain for several seconds-in other words, I was dumbfounded by his handsome face. Oh, what the hell, we live in the 21st century.

He is one damn sexy creature!

"Oh!" Damn reality check. He helps me stand up and rubs his arms with his hands. "You okay?" Hiiragizawa asks kindly.

"I am now, Mr. Hiiragizawa," I laugh and rub my waist. It was bent in a weird shape when he was holding me. My upper body was vertical in a way, but down my waist I formed a ninety-degree angle. Yes! Imagine a ninety-degree angle. That was the position I was in.

"Please, call me Eriol," Eriol smiles kindly. Usually I wouldn't expect such superior people to let me call them by their first names, but this so reminds me of those cheesy chick flicks! "You were singing, I think?"

I blush. "Horrible singing, I'm sorry to have bothered you."

"Oh no, I personally thought it was great. It was Hoobastank's 'The Reason', right?" He smiles again. He has the cutest smile, with a hint of dimples behind his perfect, yet pale skin.

"You were…listening?" I ask in shame.

"Well, I couldn't help it. You were kind of loud there," he laughs at himself. For some reason, I laugh along.

"Listen, I'm very sorry about Syaoran and Yumiko's behaviors at Princess Mall," Eriol changes the subject as we emerge into a situation of embarrassing, uncomfortable silence. "Yumiko is a little bit spoiled, being the only daughter of Emperor Meiji, and Syaoran, well, he acts like that all the time," Eriol said sincerely.

"Oh no, it was no biggie," I find myself replying, although what I really felt like doing that moment was destroy Syaoran's glassed office (glassed office…suggests something so mysterious…), "I don't mind," I lie. Did I mention I was a good liar?

"Good, good," Eriol nods his head and takes off his spectacles, revealing his naked eyes. He looks so much better without his glasses. "And this morning, as I was walking by…I'm sorry if he offended you," he apologizes on his friend's behalf again, "Syaoran's very strict around the workplace. He doesn't like to disappoint his old man."

"Oh?"

"It's his step-father, you see, and he is the strictest parent you will ever meet. Not only does nothing meet his expectations, he discourages his step-children greatly and throws a temper easily. Syaoran is trained to follow orders as well as impose them without any emotional considerations," Eriol explains. I nod slowly as I absorb this. The boss is Mr. Li's step-father?

"Well, I suppose you're here for Tomoyo," Eriol said cheerfully, changing the subject.

"Yes, yes I am! We're going to get Chinese today!" I answer back, equally cheerful.

"She'll be out in just a minute," Eriol speaks kindly; "she's finishing up typing some numbers for me. She's such a great secretary."

"Yes, she works hard," I say honestly.

"Well, we've been standing at the door for far too long now, come in and take a seat. I'll tell her you're here," Eriol announces and walks into the room in the far end. I sit myself down at his couch and contemplate the conversation we have just had.

If you ask me, I didn't think Mr. Li's strictness had anything to do with him being raised by his step-father. If you ask me, I think his harsh words today had something to do with me merely _being_ at Princess Mall on the day that Yumiko had proclaimed it all to herself. His haughty air was perfectly suffocating. I feel like choking on my tongue just being around that jerk of a man.

What is his relationship with Yumiko Hashana anyway? And what is Eriol's relationship with them? I did not know that Eriol and Syaoran belonged to the same crowd until yesterday. As I was thinking, Tomoyo came out of her office and interrupted my thoughts.

"Shall we go for lunch?" She asks.

"Of course!" I look at my watch. 12:26pm. Yay…one-hour lunch…

I came back from Chinese at exactly 1:00pm (that includes me racing up the stairs, panting and sweating like crazy, and dropping myself down on my chair looking idle) and start to insert numbers in again. Chinese food was great, really, a lot like Japanese food, except less…raw and more…refined. Not that Japanese food isn't great, but in where we live in, Tokyo, Chinese food is cheaper!

But, the fact that we had thirty-four minutes to eat (including racing back time) was not exactly ideal when you're trying to actually savor the flavor of authentic, beautiful Chinese food that look like colored sculptures in shape. Not very ideal.

I rub my stomach slowly and moan, cursing myself for eating so fast like a hobo person who has been starving for days (there was one on the street, but he looked more crazy to me than an actual vagabond). I did not feel comfortable. My stomach was aching in a weird way, but this pain must be endured! I am enduring my pain by typing still. I feel that Syaoran is onto me somehow, it's like he has eyes on the back of his head, and they are monitoring my every move.

Just when I got up to go to the bathroom, a timid-looking man came looking for me and stopped me in my tracks.

"Sakura Kinomoto?" he asks.

"Yes," I look at him with anticipation while struggling to keep standing up considering the pain I am in now.

"You are needed in the Board Room. A meeting starts in fifteen minutes." He informs me and gives me a dark green portfolio.

I whine and wrinkle my eyebrows. "Can't they send someone else in there?"

The man looks at me again, timidly, and shakes his head, "I have no idea madam, I am just the messenger." He leaves me standing tall, so that my eyes can observe all the denizens who live within the three-feet-plastic-"walls".

I hurry up to the restroom. I push open the door and step in to one the stalls. I bet Syaoran sent the timid man over here to manhandle me (not literally, of course, for that five feet skinny man looked too ridiculous to actually have the ability to manhandle someone). I bet he did this on purpose to torment me for yesterday and this morning.

I flush the toilet, come out of the stalls and wash my hands. I turn the sink off and walk to the paper-towel section and savagely rip off the poor paper towel. I purse my lips and pull open the bathroom door. I jump back. On the other side was the princess herself, though she looked at me in a weird way and did no brainwork to recognize me, walked off and pushed a stall open in that haughty manner of hers that makes me want to go up there and slap her.

Not that harsh, but you get my point. I bet she's the sole reason I'm getting so punished for my stupid job. I pace quickly towards the Board Room and push open the door. Thankfully nobody looked at me because the meeting hasn't started yet, but Director Foreman did pass me some folders and instructed me to pass them out.

I roll my eyes (secretly to myself) and start placing one manila folder on its respective table space. Important people have just started to come in, and I make way and bow to each one of them. Syaoran Li was among the first to come in. I bow to him as high as I can (so I barely bowed at all) as he gives me one of those condescending looks. Eriol came in a moment later and nods at me with a smile on his face. Oh, he's so nice. At the beginning of the meeting, every seat except one has been taken.

Oh well. I close the door and sit at the corner of the office, observing Syaoran Li's step-father, Co CEO Bing-Chen "Eton" Li staring impatiently at the door. A minute or two later, the doorknob turned, and Princess Yumiko Hashana saunters in. She looks around and takes the empty seat, which, _coincidentally_, has been placed between Syaoran and Eriol.

Stupid brats.

The whole meeting breezed through like wind, as I was sitting there, observing the gorgeous back of Bratface Two's head, with long silky hair flowing down it. The princess kept running her hand through her hair during the meeting in an effort to comb it (I don't see why, as it was stick straight), and through angle-observation, one could see that she yawned several times, and fluttered her pretty eyes around the room, and never even bothered to notice me, who was giving her death glares as she was the cause of my misfortune.

At the end of the meeting she grabbed Mr. Li's arm and batted her eyelashes at him. He smiled back, and gestured for the exit. I stood up and tucked my shirt, while perverted Director Stevenson pins his eyes on my boobs, probably hoping that the incident that occurred during my last time here would occur again. Thankfully, it didn't, and as I walked out the door after a brief smile to Eriol, out of the corner of my eye I saw a disappointed Director Stevenson, his abject eyes drooping on the concrete floor.

I'm quite glad, actually, that nothing happened…well obviously being that I don't want to embarrass myself again, _especially_ in front of that haughty, obnoxious Your Highness who practically manhandled my boss by the neck and dragged him out the door. I check my watch. It's barely two.

I resorted to sitting in my guarded station and managing my work while humming a lovely tune. Lovely! Ha. It was Shakira's _Hips Don't Lie_, which is _anything_ but lovely. "Dirty" works better. So I was sitting my chair, humming my _dirty_ tune, when suddenly the brat himself popped before my eyes and looked at me sternly with his arms on his hips.

"Kinomoto?"

"Yes?" I answer shortly, turning to him.

"That song is inappropriate for work." He said promptly, wrinkled his nose at me as if I was some kind of fish, and walked away. I sit in my chair and scoff after him, "What a jerk," I mutter.

Why does he have to ruin my day by merely appear in front of me? He and his friends are absolutely the worst of its kind on earth (ok ok! Don't sue me! _Excluding_ Eriol, the only one who actually has some _sense _in that gorgeous head of his). I stand up and walk after him. Who does he think he is? Telling me what to do? I was just about to walk over there and wack his fat head when Laura emerged out of nowhere and dragged me to her station.

"Sakura," she had obviously been crying. Her mascara was running on her face, and it was _not_ a good sight.

"Laura…" I mumble, thankful that she had stopped me before I did something stupid, and also wanting to wack her in the head because I did not get to do what I planned for.

"I can't work anymore today…I need to go home." She confessed. "Can you finish my work for me?"

Ok, I officially feel like wacking her in the head. "Um, sure," I smile and put my hand on hers like a sympathetic friend. "I'll finish your work for you, but you owe me a _big_ favor," I remind her.

"Oh thank you sooo much, Sakura," Laura said tearfully and broke away without another word. I am so pissed off that it's impossible to even _sketch_ my anger.

_8:00pm_

I am sitting in my chair with the sole companion of a 60-watts light bulb shining (or should I say, barely shining) on my work. My eyes are starting to hurt, so I take off my glasses and rub my nose in a soothing manner. I'd be done in about another five minutes. I praise the lord.

But, since when do I even _consider_ doing anybody else's work for them? I stand up and stretch my arms, yawning. Deciding to take a walk around, I wander aimlessly out of my chair and into the darkened hallway. No one is still here. I shrug and continue walking. The dimly lit halls of my company look increasing murderous, as one would often imagine when one is stranded in a mysterious place (ok, ok, _not_ mysterious, but rather intriguing plus deadly).

Right ahead of me, a ray of light seems to illuminate from a mutedly-lighted room. Curiously I crawl my way over there and poke my head through the crease of the door. I narrow my eyes to focus on the people standing in front of me.

I gasp at the recognition.

Bratface One and Bratface Two have officially lost their faces into each others. I step back in horror, slowly grasping what kind of harm would be done to me if I were to dispose to the world of their odd relationship. Mr. Li was on top of the princess, hand rubbing her body in a most inappropriate way. I turn around and slowly, quietly walk back to my station.

"Sakura?"

I stop dead in the middle of the hallway and look up. "What are you doing here?" a smiling Hiiragizawa smile at my face.

"Um...um..." I stutter, I don't know what to say. What lie should I make up so he doesn't realize that horror I had just seen? "I was just getting coffee from the conference room. Had to work late. Haha."

Oh my god, that was terrible.

"What's that noise I hear?" Eriol wondered to himself and walked forward (toward Mr. Li's office).

"No, no, you don't want to go there!" I quickly step in and block Eriol. "What? Why?" He smiles at me kindly, his sapphire eyes scanning beyond my head.

"It's just that...that...Director Foreman has a um...unfinished project in there that needs to be worked on, and he doesn't work anybody to see that just yet," I smile confidently.

Eriol nodded absent-mindedly. "Are you sure? I haven't heard James talk about this project.." he said slowly.

"Well yes! That's because it was last minute!" I add.

"Oh," Eriol said abruptly, looking disappointed. "I guess I'll just go back to my office then. You going any time soon?"

"Yes, actually, I was just on my way out, no biggie," I say smugly and waltz back to my station, "see you tomorrow, Eriol!" I wave to his back.

"Yes, Sakura, see you tomorrow." His voice sounds a bit...odd, but he walked back to his office anyway.

I smile to myself. I have just saved my boss's son's life! He really should appreciate me. I really don't know why I was protecting him and that stupid girl. Just as I bring my coffee and my bag out and pass by the office, I stop dead in my tracks. Eriol's hurt voice sounded muff from the room.

All I caught was, "--end! I can't bare this anymore. Just take her, Syaoran. Take her. It doesn't matter if she was my girl friend, you cheating--"

I stop and think to myself. Eriol came back? But...why?? Didn't I tell him that something was up with the project? And...Princess Yumiko Hashana..is _Eriol's_ girl friend? What? I had always suspected that she had feelings for Syaoran. Damn. I'm caught in a bad situation. If I step out once more I will definitely be discovered.

"I don't care anymore. Do what you want, Syaoran. I'm disappointed in you. You just don't cheat on your best friend with his girlfriend." Eriol's voice sounded. Kicking open the door, he sauntered out of the stuffy room. I shrink back, hoping that he doesn't notice me. As Eriol walked by, I sigh to myself and begin my journey home. Just when I was reaching for the door...

"Kinomoto?" A distressed voice came from behind me. I stop in my tracks and turn around. Syaoran's eyes focused on me. His shirt was half unbuttoned, his hair disheveled, and next to her stands Princess Yumiko Hashana, who was wearing a bra, hastily put on.

Worse of all, _Eriol_ turned around too.

Fuck.

"What are you doing here, Kinomoto?" Syaoran inquired.

"Nothing. What else?" The voice from the other end of the hall sounded. Syaoran turned around and observed Eriol, narrowing his eyes. "She got something to do with you?"

Silence clung in the room.

After a while, Eriol took a deep breath. "Yes. Sakura was just going home to buy a dress after I asked her to go to the company dinner with me." His sapphire eyes bore into mine. I could feel another two pairs of eyes that wanted to suffocate me. Jealousy was arousing in Princess Hashana's eyes.

I am really confused.

**moondocc: **oh my, long chapter. Well, it's a differently writing style, and hope you guys enjoyed this chapters as much as I had writing it:D

**Thanks to all my wonderful reviewers! You guys make me cry 8-)**


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